"Before I could respond, Boileau emerged from the lock-up with a puzzled look on his face. 'He is an impostor!'"
A disorderly scattering commenced, with Boileau, the Grants, and the entire Hogalum Society piling into three carriages and driving into town, threading the narrow Calais streets at a furious pace. Once at the police station, Boileau gained entrance to the cell in which Spring-heeled Jack was being housed. A pugnacious desk sergeant offered efficient answers to our questions. How was he captured? "Surrendered." Who is he? "Unknown."
I took the opportunity to question Mrs. Grant about the mask that had been left in her room. A cold, prickling sensation invaded my flesh as she described the rough textures and crude pigmentation. The mask was almost certainly an exact replica of the one I had seen in Dr. Glockenholz's office. It could not be a coincidence, and yet I could conjecture no plausible accounting for it.
Ulysses and Julia Grant seemed disconcerted by the extraordinary turns of events. The former Commander-in-Chief stood stiffly at attention and his wife's eyes darted back and forth between her husband and the exit. Cerebelli, who had been a political confidant of Grant since his early presidential campaigning, struck up an amiable confabulation with him, and Coburn offered him an enormous cigar from his ample supply. The three men smoked and talked as Satyros entertained Mrs. Grant with some close-up sleight of hand.
The pressure in my mind had risen to an unbearable degree. I had not divulged to anyone the curious intrigue surrounding Dr. Hogalum's death, but the unfathomable happenstance of a second mask suggested that there was a larger picture which had escaped me somehow. I went to Valkusian and revealed everything I knew: Petión's belief that Dr. Hogalum had been murdered, Dr. Hogalum's illness and medical experimentation, Dr. Glockenholz's account of an experiment gone awry. Valkusian closed his eyes and puffed absent-mindedly on his pipe. "And the mask?" he prodded. I recounted my unusual interview with Dr. Glockenholz and described the remarkable ceremonial mask in his possession, a mask which evidently was the twin of the one left in the Grants's room. Valkusian opened his eyes and spoke. "Magnetron, one of two powerful forces is at work. It is a powerful madness, perhaps. More likely, it is a powerful contagious magic."
Before I could respond, Boileau emerged from the lock-up with a puzzled look on his face. "He is an impostor! A copy-cat, yes, yes, yes, and mad as a hatter."
"How do you know he is an impostor?" asked Cerebelli. Satyros concurred, nodding. "Yes, perhaps he is misdirecting you now to avoid prosecution."
An authoritative voice came from behind. "He surrendered." President Grant stroked his beard, his eyes twinkling, and continued. "If he were genuine, he would not surrender and then recant. What would be the point?"
"I don't know," said Boileau. "He came into this station dressed in dripping wet Spring-heeled Jack garb, broke down in tears, and confessed to a series of crimes committed by Spring-heeled Jack. Now, he has changed his story. He claims to be an American, and says he was drugged or otherwise not in his right mind."
"An American?" I asked.
"Yes," replied Boileau. "He appears to be of some Nordic descent, but claims to be from Pennsylvania."
"Oh, dear God! Did he tell you his name?"
"Why yes he did, although I don't know if I can believe him."
"Boileau! What is his name?"
"Heavens, you are a peppery brute! Very well, then. If you must know, he said his name is Anders."